The Let's Play Archive

Mixed Up Mother Goose

by Crucified

Part 4

I didn't think it would ever stop. I didn't even think I had eaten that much. Every time I paused, I thought of the lamb I led to the slaughter, my Isaac, I, Abraham. I told the girl a wolf had killed it.

I was that wolf. Not a wolf in sheep's clothing, no. A wolf in pajamas. The worst sort.

Suddenly, however, my retching was interrupted by the sound of tears from the West. A girl was in trouble. This was my chance to do right.

It was coming from a clearing just a short ways from the edge of town. A young girl. She couldn't have been more than twelve years old. I approached her cautiously, unsure of her plight, like a moth to an atomic explosion, or one of those bug zapper things-- really, anything that would kill a moth.

"Young one," I managed to whisper, "what seems to be the problem?"

Her legs were weary, she complained. She needed some place to sit and eat her porridge. There's absolutely no way I could fail her. It was a simple task, and she was innocent and plain. This would be my retribution. I must find her a place of rest.

"My grandmother is sick," she explained.

I grunted in response, unwilling to talk and unable to form words because of the lump in my throat.

"I have to find a doctor in town and bring him to help her. I've been walking for so long, I just need to rest."

I nodded, and we continued on. The sun was hanging low in the sky like a fantastic yo-yo trick, and I tried to remember how long I had been here. It had seemed like only a few hours, but the sun had set and risen. How many times? I couldn't remember. I lit another cigarette and pushed it out of my mind.

"My grandmother is a nun. She's teaching me the ways of the cloth. I will dedicate my life to Christ."

Good. By allowing her to live, I was propagating the forces of good. Truly, this was my destiny. Everything up to this moment was just experience to guide me on my way. We reached a small glade, and there, as if by divine intervention, was a tuffet upon which for her to rest.

It is here that I must confess something fairly serious. I was never trained to be a detective. In fact, I'm quite terrible at it. I just felt that I should mention this, so that nobody judges me based on my awful decisions.

What a senseless waste.